tried the handle.

The door was locked.

To the next one he passed without hesitation. It yielded to his hand,
and he flashed the light about a bare room, with half of the ceiling
sloping down to the window. In the corner beyond this window a second
door was partly concealed by the recess. The inspector stepped across
the floor and threw the door open.

Then events moved rapidly.

Someone literally shot into the room behind him, falling with a crash
that shook the place like thunder. _Bang!_ sounded through the house,
and a key turned in a lock!

Sheffield spun round like an unwieldy top, and saw the chauffeur
struggling to his feet and rubbing his head vigorously.

The detective made no outcry, nor did he waste energy by trying a door
he knew to be locked. He stood, keenly alert, and listened.

Footsteps rapidly receded down the stairs.

"Who did it? How did he get behind me?" muttered the dazed chauffeur.

"Out of one of the other rooms! I told you to watch them!"

Inspector Sheffield was angry, but he had not lost his presence of mind.

"We must get out--quick! The window!"

He leapt to the low window, throwing it open.

"Too far to drop! We've got to smash the door! Perhaps they've left the
key in the lock! Set to on the panel with that bit of iron of yours!"

The man began a vigorous assault upon the woodwork. It was old, but very
tough, and yielded tardily to the blows of the instrument. Then a big
crack appeared as the result of a stroke shrewdly planted.

"Stand away!" directed Sheffield; and leaning back upon his left foot,
he dashed his right upon the broken panel, shattering it effectually.

At the moment that the chauffeur thrust his hand through the jagged
aperture to seek for the key, _thud! thud! thud!_ came from the lane
below.

"That's the car!" cried the inspector. "My God! what have they done to
Mr. Belford?"

The other paused and listened intently.

"It's the grey car," he said. "Why didn't they take the guv'nor's?"

"Open the door!" cried Sheffield impatiently. "Is the key there?"

"Yes," was the reply; "here we are!" And the door was opened.

Sheffield started down the stairs with noisy clatter, and, the chauffeur
a good second, raced through the rooms below and out into the yard.

"Mr. Belford! Mr. Belford!" he cried.

But no answer came, only a whisper from the coppice, followed by the
squeak of the crazy shutter.

They ran out to where they had left Belford on guard